


better than a dick in a Santa hat

by tryslora



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Relationships, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Minor Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Mistletoe, Pretend Gabriel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13136829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: It's not like Dean actually wants to date Gabriel. However, he does want to stop hearing from Sam and Bobby how he's going to die alone (not his fault they've both hooked up). So he decides to pretend to date his childhood neighbor (not to mention big brother of his childhood best friend), just to get through the holidays. He's not banking on that childhood best friend reappearing after a decade away, walking back into his life, and making him rethink everything all over again.





	better than a dick in a Santa hat

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first SPN fic, be gentle!! It's also an AU because I have a brain like a sieve for canon details. It's fake dating but the people dating don't fall in love with each other. And it's Christmas fluff. <3 Oh, and links to some of the ornaments & decorations are included, just because.

“Gabriel. Gabe!” Dean raises his voice more than he wants to, enough to get the attention of everyone else nearby before Gabriel bothers to turn around. When both eyebrows go up and Gabriel doesn’t say anything, Dean swallows a rough sigh. “Need to talk to you. Alone,” he adds, stressing the last word when Gabriel doesn’t move.

“We’re stuck in a car together for three hours tomorrow,” Gabriel reminds him. He goes when Dean motions, out into the hall, the noise of the office dimming once the door is closed. “It can’t wait?”

Dean thinks back to the email he got from Sam just that morning, and the phone call from Bobby, and winces. They’re well-meaning but interfering as fuck, and Dean may have made a small mistake. “Need your help,” he admits, hating the way Gabriel’s eyes light up. He holds up one hand. “Small favor, not a big deal, not going to owe you shit afterward.”

“One, there is no such thing as a small favor for a Winchester,” Gabriel says, “and two, yes, you will owe me. But don’t worry, I’ll figure the price out later. What’s got you so desperate, Dean?”

Fuck, Dean hates this part. He hates the way Gabriel always knows when he’s got Dean over a barrel, always knows just how to yank his chain. And loves doing it to the Winchesters, too. The joy of growing up neighbors; Gabriel was always the one to pull pranks on Dean and Sam. “Sam and Bobby won’t get off my case,” he mutters. “Since Bobby’s hooked up with Ellen and Sam’s gone and proposed to Jess, they think I should be seeing someone on the regular, too.”

“Haven’t quite forgiven you for Lisa dumping you, have they?” Gabriel clucks sadly.

“I dumped her,” Dean growls, even though Gabriel’s right. “Thing is, I told them I’m seeing someone.”

“And now you need a date for Christmas. Fantastic.” Gabriel slings an arm around his shoulders, starts to steer him toward the door back inside. “Have you met Hannah down in accounting? I think she’d be just your type.”

“It’s you, Gabriel.” Dean digs his heels in, forces Gabriel to a stop. “I panicked, so I told Bobby the reason I’m driving back with you is that we’ve been together six months now.”

He’s never seen Gabriel speechless before, and damn, if that’s one silver lining to this whole fucking mess. Gabriel’s mouth opens, closes, and Dean smirks.

“It’ll get your dad off your back, too,” Dean points out. “Hasn’t he been setting you up with someone every single Christmas?”

“I don’t mind. I like the random sex, then we’re done,” Gabriel says easily. “You owe me for this one, Dean.” He leans in, presses his lips to Dean’s cheeks, warm and dry. “You owe me, and you owe me a lot.”

“If we fight Christmas Eve, you can still fuck whoever your dad brings in for Christmas. He’s probably not going to uninvite them yet.”

Gabriel’s gaze narrows. “Fine. We fight, it’s all your fault when it’s done. And we’re taking my car.”

“We’re taking Baby.” Dean slaps Gabriel’s back. “No one will believe we’re dating if you won’t let me drive Baby.”

Gabriel huffs. “Fine. And I’m betting you won’t even let me tap that ass, to help put on a show.”

“PDA, nothing in private, and we’re staying at our own respective houses,” Dean reels off quickly. “Families are getting together Christmas Eve, but that’s normal. Don’t know why, but Chuck and Bobby get on like a house on fire.”

“Fine,” Gabriel says again. He pats Dean’s shoulder, heads for the door. He pauses with one hand on the knob, turns back. “You probably haven’t talked to my father recently, but he mentioned something interesting a couple of days ago. Then again, I’m sure you’ve already heard.”

Dean’s brow furrows. “Heard what?”

Gabriel’s eyes go wide and Dean would say innocent, except he spots the tiny laugh lines at the corners, the little tell that Gabriel’s got something good up his sleeve. “Dad heard from Castiel last week. His flight gets in tomorrow night, just in time for the festivities.”

“Cas is back?”

The moment stretches, silent. An amused smirk slowly blooms before Gabriel speaks. “Yes, Dean. It’s been ten years, and the prodigal son finally returns. Castiel will be back.”

#

It’s been a long time since the early days of college, back when Dean and Castiel still talked to each other. Before Dean dropped out, and Castiel decided not to come home after freshman year. Before Castiel headed off to do Important Things, and Dean started working in an auto shop.

Still. Once upon a time Castiel was Dean’s best friend. Since they were stupid little tweens, Cas moaning about his older brother, while Dean was frustrated with his baby brother. They bonded, somehow, and stuck together. Braces. Skinny kids. Never quite fitting in. They made it through high school together, and it’s been weird since Cas left.

Thing is, Dean never figured he’d come back.

Dean also never figured on how different Cas would look. Sound. How his entire sense of being would change.

“Beer for me, and beer for my love.” Gabriel drops onto the sofa next to Dean, hands him a bottle and slings an arm around his shoulders. Dean lets himself be tugged closer, turns to look at Gabriel just in time for Gabriel to lay one on him. Longer lip-lock than Dean would like, but it’s not like he can push him away.

“Never thought I’d see the two of you all lovey-dovey like that,” Sam muses. He’s sharing the recliner with Jess, watching Dean. “I always figured that if you ever hooked up with anyone from home, it’d be—”

“Sam.” Cas’s voice is lower than Dean remembers. Rough and filled with gravel, like he’s just had his throat fucked and, _Jesus_ , that is not an image Dean needs right now. “You were telling us about Harvard Law.”

“It’s hard,” Sam says.

Dean tunes out because yeah, law school is rough, yadda yadda yadda. Jess is working as an accountant, Sam’s in school all the fucking time, but whatever. They chose this, and they both seem to fucking love Boston, while Dean’s the fuckup who dropped out and stayed—

“I am going to go get something to eat. Shall I bring out a tray?” Cas asks.

Gabriel nudges Dean roughly. “Go on, help Castiel put together something to eat.”

“I’m not your fucking wife,” Dean growls, and Gabriel laughs.

It’s Christmas Eve. They could start the fight any time, but there’s something in the way Cas is looking at Dean that makes Dean feel like he doesn’t really want to feel like a failure again. Not right now.

So, fine, he pushes himself up and follows Cas into the kitchen.

Dean starts by pulling down a tray, then heads to the fridge to find the food that’s been stored there. It’s become a long standing tradition that there’s no formal meal on Christmas Eve; they all bring food and when people get hungry, they make up trays and dig in. Bobby, Ellen, and Chuck are off in Chuck’s office, probably already drinking more than eating, and that’s fine with Dean.

The fewer eyes on him the better.

Cas watches Dean move around the kitchen, hovers near the island but doesn’t move. “It’s more like you live here than me, now,” Cas says quietly.

Dean stops, a package of cheese slices in his hands. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one that disappeared for a fucking decade, am I?” he fires back.

“I deserve that.”

“Yeah,” Dean mutters. “You do.” He slaps the cheese down on the island next to the tray, then tosses a package of some kind of sausage next to it. “Make yourself useful.”

Castiel is silent, aside from the zip of the package opening. He works far more carefully than Dean would have, laying out sliced meat and cheese in neat rows instead of just dumping it all in vague piles.

Dean watches him work, remembering how Castiel used to apply that same precision to the projects they shared in school. His fingers seem longer now, leaner, even though Cas himself has put on muscle and weight. He’s broader through the shoulders, less lanky than Dean remembers.

“Gabriel says you have been together for six months,” Cas says quietly, and it twists in Dean’s gut to hear it from him.

“Yeah,” he mutters. There has to be more food that they can eat easily, without bothering to cook. Some of those stupid little carrots, maybe, and some unhealthy dip. Crackers. Chips. He digs for it, his back to Castiel.

“Is it true that you hooked up during the office summer barbecue?” Cas asks, and Dean chokes on air.

“Fuck, no,” Dean spits out. “Did Gabriel say that? I’m going fucking—” Dean turns, manages to get one step before Castiel lays a hand on his arm. Dean stops, looks down at the fingers resting there.

“We all know he’s lying,” Castiel says.

Dean swallows. “You do?”

“Mm.” Cas nods, turns back to the tray. “You’d never wear a Speedo.”

Again, Dean chokes on nothing.

“Although I suspect it would look good on you.”

This time Dean can’t breathe. He abruptly remembers swimming with Cas the summer after their senior year, that last idyllic summer when Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off his best friend and had no idea how the fuck to say anything. The last summer that they saw each other.

He remembers how often he had to duck in the water, hiding a reaction he didn’t want to explain.

He’s having the same damn reaction right now.

He steps to the other side of the island, while Cas watches him, head tilted slightly. “Dean?”

“I’m fine.” Breath shudders in his lungs, and Dean gestures at the tray. “Looks good, Cas. Why don’t you take that out? I’ll bring out some crackers in a minute. Might even see if I can find the pie.”

A slow smile, one that sends heat straight to Dean’s chest and his crotch. “You do still like pie.”

“Yeah. Love it.”

“Good.”

Dean has no idea why Cas sounds so damned pleased about that fact, and he’s not sure he’ll get the opportunity to find out.

#

According to tradition, they exchange small gifts on Christmas Eve. Chuck, Bobby, and Ellen come down to the living room, and Ellen offers Jo’s apologies for missing the holiday. She’s up in Canada on some special project so Dean can’t really blame her. Besides. He’s still not used to the idea that for all intents and purposes she’s something like a sister now.

Dean ends up squeezed between Castiel and Gabriel on the couch, both of them pressed warm and tight against him. He keeps his hands in his lap, tries not to flinch when Gabriel covers his hand with his own and squeezes.

“Theme this year is ornaments,” Bobby announces. “So let’s see what ridiculous crap you idjits have managed to come up with.”

“I didn’t get anything for Cas.” The words fall out into the silence, and Dean flushes when they all look at him.

“You didn’t know I’d be here,” Cas says, as if it doesn’t matter.

Thing is, it does.

“You could’ve let him know,” Gabriel says, leaning across Dean to talk to Castiel. “He’s still got the same number as he did back in high school.”

“And I’ve still got your number saved as _Cas’s butthead brother_ ,” Dean retorts, before he thinks better of it. Gabriel laughs out loud, but Dean catches Sam giving him a considering look. Dean pastes on a smile, forces out the words, “‘Course, _butthead_ has taken on a whole new meaning, these days.”

Sam looks away quickly. Gabriel snorts.

Castiel is quiet.

Dean nudges Cas’s knee with his own. “We’ll go out after Christmas, I’ll get you something then. Unless you’re going back right away to wherever the fuck you’ve been.”

“I’m staying,” Cas says quietly, rough gravel underlining the simple phrase. “Seems like it’s time to come home.”

Dean rests his knee against Castiel’s, not sure what to say. “Good,” he finally manages. “Glad to have you back, Cas.”

Bobby clears his throat. “Let’s get on with this, then. Sam, you want to hand out the presents?”

[Shotgun shell lights](https://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/s--lqL9_ZD4--/c_fit,fl_progressive,q_80,w_636/1866ntoogh09qjpg.jpg) win the day. Bobby gives a set of the lights to each of Sam and Dean, and they both gave a set to Bobby. Maybe if they’d talked ahead of time, Dean could’ve coordinated with Sam so they each gave Bobby something different, but Bobby seems pleased enough, saying “One set for the mantle, another for the tree.”

When Dean unearths the box that Jo sent, it turns out to contain a small tree, already adorned with yet more of the shotgun shell lights, decorated and ready to be put in his apartment once he goes home.

The biggest box is from Gabriel and isn’t labeled with a recipient. When Sam drags it out from under the tree, Gabriel picks it up and heads for the door. “I’ll just set this up outside,” he says. “No point in waiting.”

“I probably don’t want to know,” Chuck says.

“I know he’s your son, and I shouldn’t speak ill, but, Chuck, that boy—” Bobby cuts off, casts a glance at Dean. “Well, we can only hope someone might have a bit of influence on him. Can’t think it’ll actually be a good influence, though.”

“When it comes to idiocy, Gabriel has me beat by a mile,” Dean mutters, and Cas’s knee presses against his again.

He should probably move to the other end of the couch, put some space between them. On the other hand, Gabriel will come back, and Dean needs to leave his seat open. No point in moving just yet, right?

Gabriel’s gone long enough that by the time he comes back, the only gift left is the one Dean holds in his hands. He turns it over, looks again at Gabriel’s neat writing, and considers whether he should open it in public or not.

“Go on.” Gabriel drops on the couch next to him, pushing Dean sideways into Castiel. “It’s just a Christmas ornament. How bad could it be?”

“Dean.” Castiel touches his arm, and Dean realizes that he’s holding out another box. It’s not wrapped, just a simple white box that looks suspiciously like…

“Cas, did you get me pie?” Dean sets down Gabriel’s gift in order to take the box from Castiel.

“Not exactly.” Castiel smiles slightly, looking all too pleased with himself. “Pie would have spoiled on the trip home. When I saw this, I thought of you, and knew I had to bring you a gift.”

Cas pauses, like he’s going to say something else, and Dean’s not good enough at figuring out how to hear the words left out in the moments of silence. Easiest way to understand is to open the box, lifting out the ceramic ornament. It’s hand-painted; Dean can see the little drips, and the strokes of the brush along the curve of each cherry in the filling of the piece of pie. The piece is cut jaggedly, as if it were lifted out of a warm pie tin, ready for a plate. As if Dean could bite into it and taste the sweet-sour of the cherries, the tang on his tongue.

When Dean glances over, silent, the smile slowly falls from Cas’s lips. “You don’t like it.”

“No,” Dean says, realizing how that sounds the moment he says it. “I mean, yeah. I like it. A lot. It’s fucking cherry pie, Cas. It’s perfect.”

“You haven’t opened mine yet.” Gabriel drops the small package back on Dean’s lap.

Cas is smiling again, and it takes Dean a moment to pull his gaze away, look down at the package labeled with Gabriel’s scrawl. He’s aware of the others in the room, of the attention on him from Bobby and Ellen, as well as the way Sam and Jess have turned away, having their own quiet conversation.

Dean picks the paper apart, then tears it roughly. The box opens on its own, and the ornaments spill out onto his lap.

One [clay dick wearing a Santa hat](https://img1.etsystatic.com/005/0/7174999/il_340x270.403500463_wkv1.jpg).

One piece of mistletoe on a string.

“They go together.” Gabriel grins, dropping the mistletoe on the dick.

“That’s it, I’m done.” Bobby pushes to his feet, pulling Ellen with him. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Boys, I’ll see you in the morning. Gabriel, stay home tomorrow. Give Dean some time with his family.”

“Don’t think your foster father likes me,” Gabriel muses as Bobby leaves the room.

Dean can’t fault Bobby’s taste. He’s not sure he likes Gabriel much right now, either. “It wasn’t appropriate,” he says, as if he’s the kind of person who normally gives a shit about that. He doesn’t know where Chuck is, and Sam and Jess aren’t paying attention. But there’s Cas, still sitting right there. “Damn it, Gabe, you gave me an ornament talking about blow jobs in front of your dad. In front of my brother, and Bobby. In front of Cas.”

“I never said anything about blow jobs,” Gabriel says, tone even. “I just gave you a dick.”

“And mistletoe,” Dean grinds out. “It’s implied.”

“The imagery is stark.”

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean says. “Not now.”

“Is this the part where we argue?” Gabriel asks, standing. “Because if this is the part where you call me an asshole, you might want to remember that you already knew that before we ever started this.”

This.

This fake dating thing, to shut Bobby and Sammy up. This stupid joke of a pretend relationship that Dean just wants over with as soon as he can manage it. This thing that everyone else thinks is real, that it’s _love._ As if Dean even believes in that tripe.

“No,” Dean says. When he stands, the dick falls to the couch, slipping between two cushions, the bright red of the Santa hat just peeking out. He holds the pie ornament in his hand, clutches it tightly. “We’re not going to argue, Gabe, because I’m not going to bother. Screw it. We’re done.”

“Wait, what?” Sam looks over finally, gaze shifting between the two of them. “Did the two of you just break up?”

“Yeah.” It feels better than a fight. Just letting this go, giving up on the stupid game. Shouldn’t have bothered anyway; it’s not like Sam and Bobby seemed any happier to see Dean with Gabriel. Dean smiles slowly. “Sorry, Gabriel, you’re back to just being Cas’s butthead brother. Have a good Christmas, and I’ll see you at work next week.”

“I still need a ride back,” Gabriel points out.

“You hate Baby. Sure you want to be stuck in my car for a few hours again?” Dean asks. “I’ll give you time to think that one over. If you don’t want to carpool, that’s fine. I’m thinking I might take a few extra days off anyway.”

Gabriel’s gaze narrows, but the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “I see. We can talk about it later.”

Dean has the feeling he’s just been played, but he can’t figure out how.

#

“Gabriel!” Dean roars; it echoes off the side of the house, then fades into the distance.

It’s Baby. Gabriel’s [wrapped her in fucking twinkling lights](http://runt-of-the-web.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/christmas-car.jpg), enough of them that there’s no way Dean can drive like that. And he knows it has to be Gabriel; they were all in the house, except for the time when Gabriel was outside.

He also set up a lawn ornament of [two deer fucking on the lawn](http://runt-of-the-web.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/humping-deer.jpg), but that’s beside the point.

“Gabriel!” he yells again, and the door opens.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice is quiet, one hand out as if to placate him.

“Did you know he was going to—”

“No.” One word, quiet and calm as Cas approaches. “I know how you feel about your car.”

It’s not a big deal. It’s Christmas Eve, and Dean doesn’t need to drive until at least the day after Christmas. Probably longer, if he takes the rest of the week off like he’s thinking he might. But it’s the principle.

“I’ll help you,” Castiel offers, and Dean deflates.

“Nah. It’ll be fine for tonight. No reason to ruin anyone else’s night,” he mutters. “You should go back inside. Spend time with your brother and dad. You just got back.”

“I came outside to check on you, Dean,” Castiel says quietly. “You just broke up, and you seemed upset. Then you started yelling as soon as you got outside.”

Something twists uncomfortably in Dean’s chest. “Yeah, well, I’m fine now, so you can just go inside.” He gestures at the door. “Seriously, Cas. Go on. I’m fine.”

Castiel’s hands are loose by his side, his head tilted as he regards Dean. “I don’t believe you.”

“And you know me so well now, after being gone for ten years,” Dean mutters.

“You’re angry.”

Dean blinks.

Two steps bring him to Castiel, another one has him pushing Castiel backwards, fingers pressed against his chest. “Damn right I’m angry,” Dean growls. “You left. You stopped calling, you stopped talking to me, you stopped everything. You don’t even know what I’m doing now.”

“You’re a mechanic,” Castiel says, and Dean stops mid-poke, his hand hovering an inch above Castiel’s chest.

Castiel wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrist, moves his hand to one side. “Not just a mechanic,” he says. “You design solutions now, for the same firm where Gabriel works. High end new designs for modern cars using traditional technology. He says you’re one of the smartest people he knows, as long as they let you stick your hands in an engine while you’re thinking.”

“You’ve been talking to Gabriel,” Dean says slowly.

“For about a year, yes,” Castiel replies.

_Then why weren’t you talking to me?_

Dean bites his tongue before the words can come out. “Fine. So you know what I’ve been doing. Doesn’t change anything.”

“I know, Dean.” Castiel pauses, letting Dean’s wrist go. “We should begin again.”

Dean laughs sharply. “What, we’re going to pretend we haven’t known each other since we were kids?”

Castiel’s gaze shifts, looking at a point past Dean. “You’re right. Perhaps I can’t fix this.” A pause, Castiel’s voice quieter when he asks, “Am I still in your contact list, Dean?”

“Yes.” Dean doesn’t clarify that with an explanation. It’s the same contact list that’s been carried along since he was sixteen and got his first phone, and Cas entered his own name in for him.

Castiel the Angel.

Dean turns, looking down and to the side. “Fine. Just… don’t think this is going to be easy, Cas. Picking up like we never left off. Things change.”

“I know.” Soft. Serious. “I’m not the same person I was when I left, Dean. I know myself more, and I know the world better. I am not a better person, though. More human, perhaps.”

One corner of Dean’s mouth quirks. “Not so much an angel anymore?”

“Not innocent, no.” Castiel takes a step back, pauses. He reaches out, hand almost grazing Dean’s shoulder before it drops away. “If you could wish for anything for Christmas, Dean, what would it be?”

“Not a dick in a Santa hat,” Dean quips. Castiel smiles, and waits, and Dean feels like he has to actually answer the question. So he lies. “For Sammy and Bobby to realize that I’m just fine as I am,” he says. “So I don’t have to do shit like pretending to date your asshole brother.”

Wait.

 _Fuck_.

Castiel’s mouth twitches. “I am glad to know that your taste hasn’t been entirely destroyed,” he says, deadpan. “I admit, I was worried. It is Gabriel, after all.”

Yeah. And back when they knew each other, if Dean had wanted either of the brothers, it would’ve been Castiel.

Worst thing is, it probably still is.

That realization doesn’t make it any easier. If anything, it makes the twist of frustration, that feeling of everything being off-kilter, even worse. “Don’t tell them,” he mutters finally. “Just let them believe what they want to. Besides, then when Gabriel does whatever he’s going to do this weekend, they’ll get pissed at him.”

“I can do that.” For a moment it seems as if Castiel is going to close the distance between them, then he shoves his hands in his pockets, sets his stance, and stays where he is. “I missed you, Dean.”

The words feel like a lump in his throat, impossible to swallow past. “Yeah, Cas,” Dean says softly. “I missed you, too.”

He turns his back, because he needs to walk away now. Dean needs time to process this, to decide what he wants to do. Other than his usual choice: nothing. Because he’s gotten pretty damned good at doing just that.

#

Christmas morning dawns with a frigid chill in the air that leaves frost in delicate patterns across the windows. Dean wakes to the smell of coffee in the air, and bacon frying. By the time he gets downstairs, Jess is putting pancakes on a plate for Sam. She waves the spatula in her hand. “Blueberries, chocolate chips, or plain.”

Dean can smell the hot chocolate from Sam’s pancakes. It lingers in the air, blending with the dark coffee that’s just finished brewing. “Blueberry,” he decides. It’s a good thing Jess is a great cook. Bobby’s decent with a grill and keeping them going with meat and potatoes. Dean makes eggs for breakfast, and Sammy will help Bobby out. Ellen makes great drinks, if anyone’s in the mood for something other than a beer. But Jess—she knows how to bake and make food that’s more than just a simple steak.

It’s a nice treat for Christmas morning. As soon as the plate lands in front of Dean, he digs in.

“So, you thinking of staying longer?” Bobby asks. Dean flinches, because he forgot he said that in front of other people.

“Thinking ‘bout it,” he admits, shoveling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth so he doesn’t have to answer another question right away. When Ellen nudges a plate close to him, Dean grabs several slices of bacon, dragging one through maple syrup.

“You can stay in your old room, that’s fine,” Ellen says. “Sam and Jess are heading out tomorrow.”

“He might not have classes, but I’ve got work,” Jess admits. “If I work through the holidays, there’s a better chance of a raise.”

It sounds shitty, but Dean isn’t going to tell her not to.

“I’ve got vacation time,” he admits. “Not like I ever really use it. Been saving it up for when the time is right.” Like a summer off, driving around the country in Baby, just going where the whim takes him. It’s the kind of vacation he’s always dreamed of.

There are times when Dean feels like he’s trapped in the wrong life, stuck in a maze of offices and workshops. It’s good when he’s got his hands on things, but he feels best when he’s on the open road, Baby’s engine purring as they tear up the highway.

“Like I said, you’re welcome here.” Ellen elbows Bobby when he grumbles. “You know we miss you. It’ll be good having you home.”

“Like having a twenty-eight year old kid move back in,” Bobby mutters.

“I’m not staying that long.” Dean twists at the sound of a knock on the door. He holds out one hand when Bobby goes to rise. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

He pushes to his feet, heads into the hall and yanks open the front door. “Yeah?”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas stands there, arms loose and hands shoved into the pockets of his trenchcoat. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Just our family breakfast,” Dean tells him. He blocks the door slightly with his body, standing in the entryway. When Cas crowds close, as if to push by, Dean doesn’t give way.

Someone coughs.

“What?” Dean growls.

“Look up.” Sam sounds amused, like he’s just barely managing to hold onto laughter.

Dean’s gaze drifts up at the same time as Cas’s does. He sighs as soon as he spots it. “Seriously, Sammy? Mistletoe?”

“There are rules, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean may not be able to see him, but he can hear the way he’s struggling to keep a straight face.

Dean’s jaw is tight as he looks at Cas. “Look, Cas—”

“There are rules, Dean,” Cas says quietly. He fists his hands in Dean’s collar, yanks Dean closer and down just enough that Cas can meet his lips in a swift, hard kiss.

Fuck.

Just… _fuck_.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice sounds strangled to his own ears.

“Shut up,” Castiel murmurs against his lips. He tugs again and Dean stumbles onto the porch, the door closing behind him. Dean needs something to hold onto to keep himself stable, so he grips Castiel’s coat and uses it to hold him close.

Castiel pushes, and Dean stumbles back, thumps against the door. There’s a yell from somewhere in the house, but Dean can’t hear the words and doesn’t really care what they’ve said.

Because Castiel is kissing him. Not just a polite _we got caught under the mistletoe_ peck, but the kind of kiss where they’re starting to explore for tonsils. The kind of kiss where Dean tastes coffee and cherries on Castiel’s lips, where he’s close enough to inhale the scent of—

Dean pushes Castiel back. “Did you have pie for breakfast?”

“I brought you some,” Castiel says. “I thought we could perhaps sit somewhere to share it. But the mistletoe interfered.”

“Interfered,” Dean echoes.

“It may have accelerated my plans for the day by several hours,” Castiel admits. “I had hope to spend some time attempting to ascertain if you would be interested before kissing you.”

“I’m interested,” Dean says, in case Cas hasn’t figured that part out.

Castiel pushes back in close, kisses Dean with slow intent this time. It’s a toe-curler, the kind where it twists like heat in his gut, then spreads down to leave him halfway to ready for more. “As am I,” Castiel murmurs. “In case you were wondering.”

Dean’s struggling to catch up. He decides against saying anything; his brain is locked into one word exclamations and two word sentences. He manages to get his hands loose, slide them under Cas’s jacket and around his back to pull him closer. Help fit them together as they lean against the front door of his childhood home. “Jesus, Cas, you could’ve said something.”

It’s Castiel’s turn to break the kiss, pull back slightly. “I did,” Castiel says. “As soon as I figured it out, as soon as I knew, I came back. I’ve been speaking with Gabriel—”

“Wait a minute—”

Castiel puts a finger on Dean’s lips. “I’ve been speaking with Gabriel for months as I have come to terms with certain things in my mind, and in my heart. And he pointed out that no matter where I went, no matter what I said, I always circled back to the fact that what I missed most from home was you, Dean. What I need most from my home is you.”

“You knew I wasn’t dating Gabriel before I told you,” Dean says slowly. He has a feeling he’s been played, that Gabriel had this in mind all along. But Gabriel couldn’t have known about Sam and Bobby pushing Dean, unless he’d somehow set them up to do it.

“I had an idea,” Castiel says. “It was possible that he had left it out of our conversations, in deference to my own problems. But I doubted it. Not when he knew how I felt.”

The world is tilting dangerously; Dean clings to Castiel in order to stay upright. “And how’s that?”

“If I were to stay here, perhaps even move to somewhere closer to your residence, I would be interested in pursuing a relationship,” Castiel tells him.

“You want to date me.”

“I want to do more than date you.”

Dean smirks. “That’s good, since a good part of my high school fantasies involved your ass, and I’d love to see you make them all come true.”

There are bright points of color on Castiel’s cheeks. “You should have said, Dean.”

“So should you.” Dean doesn’t know the details, but he has to wonder now what sent Cas running. Why he took off to do great things, and why he stayed away so long. Especially if all that thinking brought them here. “Doesn’t matter now. What you said? I’m in. But I’ve got a counter-proposal first. Since you seem to be unemployed for the moment.”

“And what is that?”

“Road trip,” Dean tells him. “You, me, Baby, and two weeks on the open road. Sleeping in shitty motels that only have one room available and one bed. Eating at every diner we can find. Burgers, fries, and pie, with some milk shakes tossed in for good measure. Sleeping late when we want to. Getting up early and getting off before we hit the road sometimes, too.” His heart rushes, thudding in his chest as he keeps his gaze fixed on Castiel’s.

Because this is too much, too fast. He’s still angry, deep inside, but at the same time, he’s relieved for this second chance. This time around he can have his best friend, and maybe something more.

“You in?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods. “Yes, Dean. I’m in.”

They seal it with another kiss, and another, until there’s a knocking on the other side of the door and Bobby yelling to remind them that they’ve got nosy neighbors who don’t need to see them humping like the reindeer on the lawn.

“I did bring pie,” Castiel points out.

Dean takes his free hand, gestures toward his car. The lights are gone, like someone came out late at night to make sure it was ready to drive in the morning. As they get in, and Baby comes to life, Dean makes a mental note to thank Gabriel. Seems like his real gift was a hell of a lot better than a dick in a Santa hat.

But that conversation can wait. Right now Dean’s got Castiel, and pie, and it might be cold out but it’s nice enough for a day trip. And Dean’s going to enjoy every damned moment of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! You can find me [on tumblr](https://tryslora.tumblr.com), where I chatter about writing, life, taekwondo, and many different fandoms. If you like my fic, you might also like my original web serial, [Welcome to PHU](https://welcometophu.tumblr.com). Come visit me, I like to talk!


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